Doyle Wolfgang.
***
“Now, bear the fruits of your labor!”
That declaration was like the mallet of a war drum banging against my heart. My brow had long since been smeared with sweat that persisted on beading over my eyes every half minute. I was sure my entire body was drenched by now, but I couldn’t pry my focus off of the half-drow-devil that turned the Bodhi Tree on its crown since his arrival.
We migrated to the observation room adjacent to the ritual hall just after the headmaster's declaration. Amun was reclined on a ritual throne like all the others. Laid on his back to face the writhing mass of vines above.
They twisted and coiled and stretched, those vines, forming fifty-five arcane stalactites that leaked the sap of the divine tree.
Drip.
A drop of the bluest liquid imaginable fell onto their brows, invoking the sensations that remained in my mind to this day.
Drip.
The pulses and waves of… something spread through both bodies, spiritual and physical, before it regressed, compacted into a single point on the brow, and took form to fall upwards into the stalactite from which it came.
Drip.
And then they appeared, fifty-five bugs made of an arcane light, crawling over the vines to burrow into the melons, berries, or other fruits readying to fall into open hands.
They were fruits like any other and simultaneously fruits unseen in the history of the realms. There were two mushrooms, the ‘fruit’ of witches, but one, in particular, was wrapped in silk and seemed to have similar attributes to that of a berry, the fruit of druids. Other fruits looked like hearts, the fruits of barbarians, while others appeared as apples, the fruit of artificers. Some had electric sparks crackling over their skin. Others were encased in molten metal or wings or fire or… light. But one eye-catching fruit was larger than all the others. As big as a durian, it was; and darker than the mind could make sense of. Like a blank spot on reality surrounded by a divine crown of dull yellow light. It stole the air from our very lungs.
Except that of the students.
Except that of Amun’s.
His fruit was larger than his head. Twice as large, but he pulled it to his maw and bit into its flesh without as much as looking at it.
He bit. And slowly, he pulled it away to chew. Then, carefully, reeled it back in for another bite.
Slowly, carefully, he ate and ate. Savoring its taste, it seemed. Holding it atop his tongue until the flesh melted down his throat. Compelling him to reel the fruit back in, place another piece in his mouth, and chew.
Slowly. As if he were analyzing it with a fresh mind on every bite. Carefully studying each change the succulent flesh brought about his body. Observing how it reacted to the energy inside him. How he reacted to the energy inside it. All but reformatting his assumptions and biases each time he reached out, placed another piece in his mouth, and crunched.
I recalled the feeling I felt long ago. The strong pulses within before the mana around me took shape into words that promised a way to power. I recalled it all so vividly, despite the starkly different scene unfolding before us now.
Through the enchanted glass before us, we saw an aura around their bodies denoting them of the classes they were able to obtain and nothing more. For the most part, the results were as we expected. The vast majority of them were fighters or barbarians, with only a few minor surprises. At least from us. As one, nearly every pair of eyes among the students bulged wide and fell on Amun, surrounded by a mass of shadow that was not unlike the aura of another class. Though we all were fairly certain it was Amun’s Sorcery we and we alone were observing. Then, the darkness suddenly brightened to surround his body in the same golden radiance that crowned his fruit. Golden and gentle, it was. And immensely powerful. It was almost… divine.
Or rather, it was.
“It was just as he said,” Zeff backpedaled into his chair, muttering. “He’s a Cleric! And,” he turned to the two pure vampires, glowing with a similar, albeit significantly weaker radiance after consuming their radiant figs, “they are as well.”
A sudden yelp in a foreign but melodic tongue brought our attention first to Eiriol nearly planting her beaming face into the window, then to Amun, covered in the ethereal flame-like aura that denoted him as a monk.
After that came a similar yelp in a similar tongue, but from Zoop, as Amun soon took on the silvery-white hue of an artificer. And then… it faded back to black.
In a way that I haven’t seen since he met with Emperor Morningstar, Amun scowled at… something. He leaned forward in his seat, frowning while his eyes flickered back and forth, over and over, and then he threw himself back in frustration.
“What the fuck?!”
It wasn’t a murmur, it was nearly a full-on shout. An exclamation of anger that spread an iron grip across the lot of our throats to silence our mouths. Unable to speak our minds, our thoughts degraded into the worst-case scenario. My mind conjured flashes of an inescapable wave of lightning or darkness or death. All of ours did, it seemed. Except those beyond the glass. The Pages-no-more stared at him but with nothing more than surprise or mild shock. Most of them didn’t even pay it any mind, and of course, Amun didn’t either. He simply reclined further into his chair and took on a distant stare as if nothing happened at all. And thus, so too did the majority of his peers.
Or rather, his subordinates.
No agreements or orders were given or made, but we collectively gave them a few minutes to peruse through their new knowledge after that incident. I, for one, was grateful for the reprieve. And I was even more grateful that I could stand back and watch the class instructors enter the hall to tell them where to be after their month off. Except for, as always, the Rogues. They had only a sign telling them of the rules and where to be and nothing more.
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“So, I guess that’s it then?”
“Yes.” I nodded to Zeff without as much as looking down at him. “Finally, I’m free.”
“Well.” Came a stifled sigh. "When are you out?”
I nearly slapped myself upon hearing the melancholy in his voice. A pain that had been rasping his breath since he arrived in this grand hall. I almost didn’t want to meet his eyes. But I knew that would have only been more painful for both of us.
“Tonight,” I said softly.
“We’re, uh.” Olga took a cautious step forward. “Once our offices are cleaned out. Then we say… goodbye. To the Headmaster.” She stepped forward again with a quivering lip. It seized as if it were fighting to say more, but Olga held back and rested a gentle hand on the halfling's shoulder.
He returned the gesture by placing his palm on top of hers. Then, with a meek smile, he grabbed mine and began walking towards the exit. “I’m sure you wouldn’t mind some assistance?” He stifled a warm laugh. And kept up the attitude for as long as it took to pack up my and Olga’s offices and say our final words before our departure. A testament to his character and then some.
He took it well, though I knew it would be hard on him in the days to come. Still, though, I almost felt guilty for not sharing their sadness. For I knew Zeff Yurich, and I knew his decision to stay at the Bodhi Tree wouldn’t last long. A year would pass and he’d have put in his resignation letters and, if not returned to us, then moved on elsewhere. There was no more reason for him to stay here. He, however, wouldn’t acknowledge that until he felt it for himself. Thus I knew this was not a goodbye. At least for him.
Cleaning out my office and classroom was a much more difficult endeavor. Though it was sparse, each desk held the memory of a dozen students who developed their skills under my tutelage. So many words, pictures, and diagrams had been written on that board, imparting the same information a dozen times over. Each training alcove rekindled the awe of witnessing so many types of magic being used in such unique ways it never ceased to blow my mind.
I saw the ghostly visages of students long past as I took my final walk through those grand halls. The conversations I’ve heard, the friendships and hateful rivalries I’ve seen come to rise, they seemed to cement into my memories as I passed, removing them from the plane on which they were formed so that I could take them with me on my journey into the pale light.
It almost seemed impossible to think I would never see the tree again. It was a blot in the sky. A perpetual entity that rose to the heavens, forming a living beacon for everything on this side of the mountain. It could even be seen on the far side, in some places. But to think it would one day disappear from my sight entirely was almost inconceivable. Just like the moon.
It was now a constant in the sky. Full and round, it was, bathing the Bodhi Tree in the divine pale light beheld by its creator and thus creating the perfect mental image of Copper Party’s courtyard.
The memories of that place- of this Bodhi Tree, I would hold onto forever.
“I started this year thinking it would be like all the others.”
I didn’t turn toward her in the slightest. Not until Olga Godzuik stood beside me and turned her gaze up to the Tree did I peer at her through my peripherals and see the proverbial weight lifted from her shoulders, belying the evident sadness in her eyes.
“Never would I have thought I’d be standing here.” She chortled softly. “At least not this soon.”
“Yeah.” I lowered my eyes with a long sigh. Then started the arduous walk. “There’s only one thing left to do.”
As promised, we found Headmaster Zorrenor Knagh in the ritual room. Though he seemed an entirely different entity. His now dull brown skin was glazed over with sweat that appeared more as mucus than anything else. He stood hunched in the center of the room, yet discomfortingly craned his neck back to look upon the inert mass of vines above.
“Ah.” He wheezed and raised a hand upon noticing our entry, ceasing our footsteps entirely. “Doyle Wolfgang, Olga Godzuik, thank you for all you’ve done for the Bodhi Tree. You are always welcome back, be it to visit or otherwise.”
There was so much I wanted to say at that moment. I wanted to thank him for the opportunity he gave me. For the wisdom he imparted to me. I wanted to make promises of seeing him again, despite my knowing how unlikely that was. Above all, I wanted to inquire about his health. He looked as if he was sick, or worse, dying. Regrettably, however, there was nothing we could do but put the thoughts behind us and leave after some short words. In return, new thoughts spurred in my mind. A sudden notion that the Bodhi Tree wasn’t as permanent as I thought it to be.
That thought lingered until a lumbering sound caught my ear. It loomed from further up the hall. From the entrance. Thundering steps like that of an ogre or a mound giant. Or perhaps even a troll.
“Ah, Doyle!” The cackling voice streaked through the air, inducing a series of uncontrollable winces that lasted until Titus Zlock loomed into view. “I see your timing is impeccable as always.” He calmly sneered. “I put in my letters also. So I’m glad we could say our goodbyes face to face.”
“Letters?” I dared ask.
“Aye. My resignation letter to the Bodhi Tree. ” He brushed past us, growling. “And my notice of retirement to Stellaris.”
“Ah, I see.” I nodded, though I continued walking without as much as a peek behind me. “Congratulations, Titus.”
His only response was a growl before the great doors of the ritual hall echoed shut behind us. Simultaneously, the lesser doors leading to the main courtyard swung open to slap us in the face with the brisk airs of freedom.
“There are few things as dangerous as an egotistical man with both a sense of justice and wounded pride.” Olga lamented with a deep breath.
“Yeah.” I almost snorted, remembering the small outburst that almost sent us into a panic. “But a slighted God makes even that look like a child's tantrum.”
She stepped in to face me directly and flicked the bulbous orbs of her eyes between mine. “Is that what you truly believe? Is that where you’re truly going.”
“You know the answers to those questions, Olga.” Slowly, I held out my hand and returned her intent stare. “Are you coming?”
“If… if I can live.” She nodded almost fearfully.
“Then let us go see if you can live, shall we?”
I didn’t give her a choice. Or rather, I simply dropped my hand and turned, leaving the choice entirely up to her. Whether she followed or stepped in another direction to find a new path was her decision to make. Like Amun, I could only make the offer and continue on my chosen path without looking back. However, when I stepped through the portal and arrived inside the absurd tower, I wasn’t surprised to find her beside me.
He was gathered before his subordinates on the base level in the grand, open foyer, waiting silently among the warm welcomes and sudden cheers until Olga and I descended to stand before him.
“I wish to join you,” I shouted before my former students could inquire. “Not as an instructor. As a Legionary.”
A sudden rise of murmurs erupted from the majority of them. Mostly, surprisingly, about who I would work for and how I would be trained. But Amun broke the chatter with but one sentence. “Name the price of your service to the Legio Noctis.”
“The truth.” Came my simple reply.
“That requires you to become an officer.” Amun’s face contorted into a knowingly wicked smile. “Are you willing to endure six months of darkness for the truth?”
“I am.”
“Very well.” His smile widened as he turned away. “But you’re gonna have to take a vacation first. And while you’re at it, find another ambition.”
“Another ambition…” I began to mutter, then threw it all aside and bolstered my voice with mana. “I choose to serve the Legio Noctis of my own volition. If only so that I may walk under the silver light and bear witness to the change you’ll bring to the realms.”
Suddenly, Amun’s smile turned from wicked to benevolent, and simultaneously, I found my hand reaching to accept his open palm as he said. “Very well.”
His agreement, his words- if they were even his- echoed from the furthest reaches of somewhere while my mind went elsewhere. High above and far away from my body I was swept and suspended in place for but a single moment, giving me an unparalleled view of an almost unending vista surrounded by a never-ending sea until suddenly, I was standing before a God once again. Stuck in place with a gaping wide mouth and an outstretched hand while Olga’s voice pulled me from my stupor.
“I just want to live. I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to join the legions. I want to retire and live in peace. Do I have to sell my soul to do that?”
“No.” Amun’s head shook slowly, smiled, and looked out to the moon. “This tower will be changing soon. You can live in what it’s to become. Just give me a few hours to make it.